


Four times Eliot was angry and one time he... really wasn’t.

by pulangaraw



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the box. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four times Eliot was angry and one time he... really wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> This should have been called "Five scenes in Eliot's life I woke up thinking about, but can't be bothered to put into a coherent story". Starts off a bit sad, but gets happier. Can be read as eventual OT3.
> 
>  **Warning:** Mentions domestic violence.

1.  
Eliot pressed himself into the corner, trying to be as small as possible. In the darkness of the cupboard, he could pretend that he was safe. That nothing bad would happen. Outside, dad ranted and raged, but Eliot knew from experience that he’d fall asleep soon. Hopefully he’d forget about Eliot, hidden in the cupboard. Some days he was lucky.

Other days he wasn’t. Eliot touched his cheek. The bruise there was a couple days old, but it still hurt. Another bruise he’d have to explain away at school tomorrow. He mentally went through his list of excuses, trying to think of one he hadn’t already used too many times. Dad was shouting something about _fucking casino gangsters_ and something clattered to the floor.

At least mom had taken the girls to the shops with her. Eliot hoped they wouldn’t be back for another couple hours. But when they’d left, dad had been fine and maybe mom would hurry back, thinking they could have a quiet evening.

Eliot pressed his face into his knees and braced his hands against the floor trying to ground himself. Lately, the feelings burning inside him whenever dad went into one of his moods weren’t just fear and shame. Anger - new and scary in its own way - curled in Eliot’s stomach, making his fists clench and his muscles shake with the urge to fight back. He’d tried, once, but it had only made things worse. He wasn’t strong enough - yet.

Eliot’s fingers brushed against something lying against the cupboard wall. He reached out and took it, squinted at it in the dim light. A knife. Dropped down here and forgotten. Eliot pressed a finger against the blade. It was still sharp.

Outside, the noises changed. Eliot heard the front door open and close, heard his sister’s laughing voices, then mom shushing them, sending them back outside. Dad had gone quiet. Eliot listened. His hopes were shattered when he heard something hit the wall and mom made a small, shocked sound. She never screamed, not out loud.

Anger flared up again in Eliot’s stomach. His fingers curled around the knife, the blade glinting in a bit of light coming through the crack between the cupboard doors. Without much conscious thought Eliot pushed himself up, through the doors and into the room. Dad was standing by the table, shouting something, but Eliot wasn’t listening. He saw the fear in mom’s face, the twisted rage in dad’s and - still half crouching - he rammed the knife into his father’s thigh, then straightened and pushed the man’s chest with all his might, making him stumble backwards into the table.

Mom told Eliot later that he’d been shouting “Stop it” over and over, but Eliot doesn’t remember. He does remember his father limping out the door. They never saw him again.

 

2.  
Eliot fell in love with Mandy when he was 10. Mandy had no idea about this until Eliot turned 15, got his shit together and asked her out to the spring dance. Surprisingly, she said yes. After that, they became inseparable. Everyone called them the Spring Sweethearts.

When Eliot turned 18, he enlisted in the Army. There weren’t many options for a guy who didn’t want to get any more bones broken as rodeo clown or get drunk at 8 am to drown the boredom and hopelessness. He told Mandy he’d be back within a few months, as soon as basic training was done. Once he knew where he’d be stationed, he’d come back, marry her and take her with him. He even gave her a ring. Promised her that if she ever needed him, he’d be there in a heartbeat.

Only, things didn't turn out the way he’d planned. He did come back, but ‘a few months’ turned into a little over two years, and about a year before he got back Mandy stopped answering his letters.

Eliot told himself not to expect a warm welcome. He told himself that she had every right to be mad at him, that he’d have a lot of explaining to do - not easily done when you a)weren’t allowed to talk about most of the things you’d done and b)weren’t used to talking in the first place - and he steeled himself for shouting and tears.

What he didn’t expect was Mandy opening the door, visibly pregnant, a toddler in her arms.

She stared at him. “Eliot?”

“Hey.” He tried a smile, still working through the shock.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, suddenly at a loss. “I said I’d come back for you.”

“That was years ago.” She looked sad, tired. “Eliot, I’m married.”

He’d guessed as much. “Your kids?”

She nodded, pressed her lips together, adjusted her grip on the child in her arms. “Eliot, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She closed the door. Eliot turned and walked away. Three weeks later he shipped out, destination Eastern Europe.

 

3.  
Once they were safely in the car and Ford was speeding away from Pierson Aviation, Eliot let himself relax into the seat. A few seconds later Hardison shifted closer and sniffed - _sniffed_ \- at Eliot’s hair. Eliot suppressed the urge to lash out.

“Your hair smells flowery.”

Eliot growled.

Hardison, apparently oblivious to the danger of being hit in the head, sniffed again, “What is that, strawberries and vanilla?”

“Back off,” Eliot hissed between clenched teeth.

Hardison did scoot away a bit, but he kept talking. “Do you use conditioner? No one’s hair is naturally that shiny. Man, what you using? Fructis? Herbal Essences?”

“You do realise what it says about you when you can rattle off those brand names,” Eliot shot back.

“It says I’ve dated enough women to recognise all the major shampoo brands.”

“Says that’s what your momma uses.”

“Enough, you two,” Ford cut in.

Hardison flashed Eliot a grin, clearly thinking he’d won this one. Eliot bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Hardison’s grin died and he slid away, back into his own seat.

 _Yeah, be scared_ , Eliot thought savagely, _the shiny hair man can kick your ass easily._

 

4.  
Parker’s face suddenly appeared in front of Eliot, blocking out the page he was trying to read.

“What’cha reading?” she asked.

“A book.” Eliot growled, hoping his gruff tone would put her off. Sadly, this strategy rarely worked on Parker. It didn’t now. She pulled her head back a bit, crouched down and tried to peer at the book’s cover. When that wasn’t successful, she simply grabbed the book and pulled it out of Eliot’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Bonha N Mnpb?” she tried.

“Война и миръ,” Eliot corrected, “War and Peace.”

“Sounds boring,” Parker said, “What language is that?”

“Russian. And it’s not.” Eliot grabbed the book back from her, annoyed.

“We could go and check out the new exhibition instead,” Parker said, still bouncing around in front of him. Sometimes just watching her made Eliot grateful he didn’t have any kids.

“No. Go and annoy someone else.”

“You’re no fun.”

Eliot scowled and went back to his reading. After a few more minutes of being pointedly ignored Parker gave up and wandered off. Eliot hoped she’d find Hardison.

 

5.

“Parker, stop moving around,” Eliot whispered.

Parker shifted again in her sleeping bag. “I can’t sleep. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Just ignore it.”

On Eliot’s other side, Hardison snorted. “That might work for boy-scouts like you, Eliot, but we’re civilised people. We don’t normally sleep like Klingons.”

“Shut up, both of you.”

Five minutes later, Parker was still squirming and it sounded as if Hardison was pseudo-typing against the outside of his sleeping bag. Eliot sighed. No one could sleep with that much distraction around them. He cursed Nate and his stupid plans.

“Eliot?” Parker asked.

“What.”

“Can you sing something?”

Eliot pulled a face, even though no one could see it in the dark.

“Yeah,” Hardison piped in, “That might work.”

“I’m _not_ going to sing you guys a lullaby,” Eliot hissed.

“Please?” Parker sounded like she was 6 years old and away from home for the first time.

Eliot closed his eyes in surrender. “Fine.”

“Sing that one from Memphis, with the road not travelled,” Parker whispered.

Eliot was just getting to the chorus when Parker shuffled closer and snuggled herself into his side. Eliot kept singing and wrapped an arm around her, let her put her head onto his shoulder. By the time he sang the last few words, Hardison was pressed against his other side, breaths even and calm, one hand resting on Eliot’s chest. Eliot tried to feel annoyed for being squished between them, but all he managed was exasperated fondness.

Damn, he was in trouble.


End file.
